


Unwoven

by Eule



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Remembering better times, Sad, but it seems to be Athos, maybe a little bit depressing, no names mentioned, so it could be any one of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eule/pseuds/Eule
Summary: He sits alone in the dark and remembers until light comes and goes again, leaving him alone.
Kudos: 6





	Unwoven

He sat in the dark and heard the rain splattering against the big windows of his living room, but wasn’t actually listening. The low growl of thunder was rolling over the sky, but without lightning it continued to be utterly black outside and the whole earth seemed to wait for something to happen, but was caught in the heavy atmosphere of this special moment of time shortly before the storm broke loose, in which it seemed that there wasn’t enough air to breath properly and there wasn’t any chance to move on until lightning strikes for the first time. 

He didn’t move, but his thoughts were restless, running through time and memories as if that would stir the world outside into action again. His mind filled with the agony of remembering the warmth and comfort only true love can award you with. How precious together woven dreams feel and how thinking of them in the company of others felt, when nobody else than your beloved could read the thoughts in your eyes and you smile at each other; for a few seconds alone in your own universe but surrounded by so many others who knew you well enough to see that you are lost in each other, in a moment only meant for the two of you. And they are happy over such love before they look back to their own partner with the same expression, your own love turning this moment in one of deeper love and understanding for them, too.   
He remembered how it was to dance, to eat and lay in bed together unmoving, to share secrets and fears. How it lifted a heavy burden from your shoulders, because the other person cared for you and comforted you. How it would get easier when you laid together in the dark of the night, whispering words you weren’t able to say out loud and be understood nonetheless. How soft hands were touching cold skin, arms encircling to protect and a soft voice saying, that you are not alone; never saying that everything will be alright again, because nobody can keep such a promise, but that they will be with you for every step you have to go on whatever path you choose or are made to go. 

He didn’t say something, but his mind was filled with voices long silenced. Merry laughter echoing through the dark and empty corridors of his soul, the giggling of two children stealing fresh baked apple pie from an window sill of the kitchen, before running away and hiding to share their price in delight warmed his heart only to clench it seconds after, because the giggling turned into breathless screaming not so many years later, before there was only silence anymore.

He didn’t move, didn’t blink and only breathed because he had done so for decades. Because that was the only thing still left people await from him anymore and it was the only thing he could do without disappointing them. But he remembered to dance and feel the joy accompany it, feet moving as if there wasn’t anything able to stop them. A heart moving in sync with the other, happy and feather light until another one stopped and ripped his own apart while doing so. 

He didn’t only hear the thunder rolling over the sky, but also the lullabies, jokes, promises, wishes, vows, pleas, accusations, threats and screams of the past. Knowing who comes up or down the stairs only by hearing the sound of footsteps; knowing the mood of the other only by a change in the breathing and air filled with song and laughter when it was now so thick and heavy you are nearly suffocating in it. 

Decades spent listening to voices, telling him how beautiful life could be; how deep a bond could reach; how secure love could make you feel; how strong other people could make you when their hearts move in the same direction as yours; how their voices could make feel secure, even if you could not see them, but knew they were near; how the sight of them could brighten even the darkest of days, even if there isn’t enough light for you to see anything else; how the mere sounds of those people’s daily actions could put you at ease, because you are not alone, even if you are not the center of their action at the moment. Until you are alone, because you believed the things they said.

And when those thoughts shattered his heart and mind inside a full glass of wine did so on one of the white walls of his living room. And at the same time the first strike of lightning lit the sky and with it all of those woven dreams and hopes were illuminated for a moment only to vanish a heartbeat later in sync with the light, leaving anything and anyone in darkness again.


End file.
